


when the night turns

by tascheter



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Domesticity, Future Fic, M/M, billdip week (belated), brief coffee shop, deal-based flirting, prompt: dance party/birthday party, soft dates, somewhat liberal swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:04:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8374936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tascheter/pseuds/tascheter
Summary: what if the world dies with the sunrise?(baby it's all right, we'll be up all night) 
--
Bill has a truly, spectacularly awful idea. Dipper just wants to enjoy his birthday.





	

**Author's Note:**

> it appears i've only just caught up with the 'naming fanfics after relevant song titles' bandwagon. sorry, team!
> 
> so, this was originally supposed to be for billdip week... back in... august... oops ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ anyway: nothing very long, i think i have a second part planned (ft. like infinity times more mabel), all connected to a overarching story idea i've been kicking around for a while... so if you want more of this, let me know what you think?

Dipper nearly chokes on his coffee when he hears Bill's proposition.

"Um. Okay." He raises a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, and tries not to think too hard about what Bill's actually asking. "First of all, _please_ tell me you're not serious."

Bill just smiles indulgently, too pleased with himself to be worried. "Come on," he says. "I already bought the tickets, with real human money and everything. If you can think of a better way to fuck with Sixer, I'd love to hear it."

" _Ford's_ going to be there?" Dipper rubs a hand down his face. "Look, I am not going to aid and abet you harassing my uncle. He's on vacation, Bill. And also old." He takes a deep breath. "Not to mention, if he found out about you he'd probably go ballistic," he points out. "I don't want him, I don't know, getting a heart attack, just because you couldn't keep yourself from antagonizing one puny, weak-minded mortal, or -- whatever."

"Okay, first of all," Bill says, completely unfazed, "the last thing he is is 'weak-minded.' That's only one of the many, _many_ reasons he's so infuriating. Secondly, I never, technically, wanted to actually kill him, just make his life a little _interesting_ \--"

"So you want to definitely continue not endangering his health by showing up, with me, at his house?" Dipper gives him a skeptical look. "Like I said, dude: he's old. Not in the demon way like you, either, more like in the 'actually might die of shock' way."

"Well what's the old man doing coming to a dance party if he isn't prepared to be a little scandalized?" Bill looks at him like he's stupid, but Dipper doesn't entirely have the energy to feel offended. It's still too early, and, to be honest, that's still Bill's reaction to a lot of human things, so it might not even be personal. "Anyway, he doesn't _own_ you. What's it to him if you show up to your own party with your own, extremely significant other."

"It's not about him 'owning' me," Dipper says. This isn't the first time they've had this argument, either, so he knows it's not meant as rudely as it sounds, but still. It's tiresome. He's not even done his coffee. "It's -- I don't know, it's complicated, alright? Yeah, we've never really agreed on everything, but there was a good, like, five years where I pretty much wanted to be him. He's a big part of my life."

Bill rolls his eye at this, but Dipper just nudges him lightly under the table.

"He's family, dude," he says. Not like Bill can really understand that, probably, but what else can Dipper say. "He's weird, and awkward, but I think he honestly means well--"

"To _you_."

"I was _going_ to say he's not that different from you. At least this time around." Dipper looks at him. "I mean. Is that entirely unexpected?"

"It's not just that. It's -- the principle of the thing," Bill says. He's carefully avoiding Dipper's gaze, now, looking all thoughtful and serious and, again, stupidly pretty out the window. Dipper's about half sure it might be on purpose. "Look, you were the one who crashed my party last time. I mean, I think it's at least fair I get to return the favor. I promise there'll be, like, at least fifty percent less apocalypse."

Dipper blinks. "Wait. Are you -- was this just some really convoluted way of asking me on a date?"

"Oh, don't think I don't want to antagonize Ford. That's still the primary goal of this invitation--"

"Wow, thanks. Bill, you know we are _on_ a date, right now."

"Listen. He doesn't know I'm back. That's fine." Bill looks at him in the closest approximation of 'earnest' Dipper's ever seen from him. "Unfortunately, I can't un-know that he's around. Believe me, I've tried."

As Bill talks, Dipper notices he's crumpling and re-crumpling a straw wrapper against the tabletop. Most people might not even notice it, but Dipper's not 'most people' anymore, at least not when it comes to Bill: he knows it's one of a few little tics Bill's picked up since getting stuck in this body. They're kind of endearing, but Dipper's never quite sure if he should point them out. 

(After all, it's nice, sometimes, being able to tell what an inscrutable dream demon is thinking.)

"Honestly, I'd be doing him a favor, letting him know." Bill doesn't seem to have noticed Dipper's observation -- or at least it's not enough to interrupt him. "Leveling the playing field. Fighting fair, right, you like that."

"I still don't understand why you're so obsessed with him." Dipper swirls his cup slowly, considering how best to phrase this. All the chocolate's sunk to the bottom, it's gonna be like one big sugary shot, it's gonna be awful. "I mean -- I know why. I get why you don't like each other. That you have _history_. But didn't you ever have -- I don't know, _other_ human nemeses?"

Bill snorts, like he's somehow argued Dipper into a corner. "Yeah. Sure. But you're not giving me speeches every other day about why _they're_ so great, are you?"

It takes Dipper a moment or two to actually process the content of this response. (He blames it on the fact that it's still way too fucking early to be awake, given when they made it back last night. This morning. Whatever.)

When it finally dawns on him, though, he nearly chokes. Again.

"Oh my God," he says. "You're jealous."

Bill says, predictably, nothing. But he can't hide the way his eye shoots open, or how his cheeks flush a warm, rich bronze.

"Oh my God." Dipper literally cannot believe what he is hearing. "You are. You totally are! Of me paying attention to Ford?"

Across from him, Bill huffs. "I don't know what you're talking about," he insists, definitely not making eye contact and blinking definitely way more often than is actually necessary. "If you're trying to imply that I'm jealous of some -- some jumped up, time-bound, self-righteous flesh sack, let me tell you--"

"Oh my God." Dipper's trying as hard as he can not to actually laugh, because he tries to be a fundamentally decent person, but this is ridiculous. This is priceless. This is everything he really likes about Bill all in one stupid, adorable package. "Bill. You're incredible."

"Thanks, kid, tell me something I don't know." Bill's voice is sarcastic, haughty and cold, but he's still blushing. He's honest to God blushing. "Oh, _wait_."

"You know, people can care about more than one person at a time." Dipper can't even help it; he gives Bill a genuinely fond, exasperated smile. "Even if they don't like each other. God, you tiny dumbass--"

"That's not the point."

"What about you and Mabel? Oh God, you don't feel like this about her, do you?"

"Shooting Star doesn't count!"

"I'm pretty sure she's still tried to kill you, dude. Like, with intent to commit, within the last three months."

"That's _different_."

Dipper feels a little bad, but he can't help but smile a little. "Look, if you keep pouting like that, I'm gonna take a picture."

"Fuck you, Pine Tree. Y'know what, I rescind my offer, I'll crash your party alone."

"No! Alright, alright." Dipper laughs, despite himself. A wonderful, terrible idea occurs to him. "Look," he says, "if you go, we have to have some kind of ground rules. Bottom line, you absolutely have to behave--"

"Thanks, _dad_."

"--but if you think you can do that. Maybe we could." Dipper swallows. "Make a deal."

Bill's still pouting, but Dipper sees him sit a little straighter.

"Nothing professional, I mean," Dipper is quick to clarify. "Just...an understanding. Between us."

"What kind of _understanding_ d'you have in mind, kid," Bill says. Almost wary, though his eye is sharp and bright. He really is terribly obvious, Dipper thinks, if you know what to look for.

"All I'm asking for is one night of peace." Dipper's not entirely used to this -- this weird, vaguely mercenary pseudo-flirting, whatever this is for Bill. But. Well. Here he is. "Just for the evening. Or, like -- just 'til midnight. Okay? I -- I kind of figured you wouldn't be a secret forever," he adds, kind of sheepishly. "I don't want you to be. Just -- let me try to enjoy my party a little, before hell breaks loose."

Bill hums, and stretches back into the booth cushion. "That's pretty good, y'know," he says. He looks almost distracted, now, like he's seriously considering it. "'Til midnight, a lover's birthday. A gift freely given. Very catchy."

He leans forward, one elbow on the tabletop. "Okay, say I bite. What's in it for me?"

Dipper thinks for a moment. "If you let me have the evening, I...won't stop you from wreaking a little havoc after that," he says. "I mean, aside from like, actual bodily harm -- or magical, psychic, whatever, just basic social rules. No permanent, life-threatening injury. But other than that? I mean..."

Bill raises an eyebrow.

"Look," Dipper says. "I already told you -- as long as nobody gets hurt, in the end, I mean. Honestly, I really don't care." He spreads his hands. "Poof in in a blaze of magic, cackle a bit, make out with me in the middle of the dance floor, I don't know."

Bill's eye goes thin then, all sharp and suspicious. "You giving me ideas?"

"Look, it's still better than any plan I've come up with for letting them know about you," Dipper says. "Mabel already knows, she's the most important one in this equation. Still no idea about Mom and Dad. Stan has seen some shit -- especially where you're involved -- so I think he might be able to come around. Eventually. Maybe." He shrugs, and throws up his hands. "I mean...all I'm saying, is it would be nice to be able to speak to Ford again at some point."

"If you say so." Bill looks into the distance, now worryingly thoughtful. "I assume this would mean no magic during the party proper?"

"You set his detectors off nearly every time you come over as it is," Dipper reminds him. "Plus, he doesn't know I'm, uh. Seeing anyone. I imagine he'd be quick to get suspicious."

"Hmm. What about me getting recognized early? Shooting Star managed after, what, barely sixty seconds."

"Yeah, but she -- well. Those were. Extenuating circumstances." Dipper blushes to remember exactly what those circumstances were, but that's not the point. "And she was on the zodiac, we talked about that, remember."

Bill rubs his chin. "I dunno. I'm pretty invested in this big midnight entrance, now. You still got any of those memory guns?"

"We are _not_ brainwashing the entire town."

"Picky, picky." Bill heaves a theatrical sigh. "You're _so_ difficult to please."

"And _you_ are a jackass."

"Yeah, but who's the one keeping me around?" Dipper makes a face, but Bill just laughs. "Look. Last time we were at the same party it was completely different circumstances. I am an excellent host. Believe it or not, I'm not half bad at being a guest, either."

Dipper shivers, despite himself. "I dunno if I want to think about the kind of parties you got invited to, dude."

"Not like I'm getting invited to any of 'em now. Come on, kid." Bill grins, sharp and bright, before leaning conspiratorially across the booth, and fixing Dipper with that awful, flame-blue eye. "Just give me a chance."

For a moment, Dipper can't return the eye contact. He looks everywhere but at Bill -- to the table, to Bill's hands, out the window beside them. The absurdity of Bill Cipher asking to be _given a chance_ doesn't escape him, but. Well.

Once can be a lot, depending on the thing. Once, he'd never have believed he would really consider this. He can think of a lot of _onces_ with Bill. But this--

Dipper bites his lip.

Well. It would be nice to go on a (relatively) normal date. Like. Like actual people, or something. Even only for a little while.

He looks back to Bill. Dipper can only recognize that expression from spending so much time with him nowadays. To anyone else, it might just look like boredom, or even a vague kind of contempt; it's not the kind of expression Dipper has seen on him often, so this doesn't quite feel like admitting defeat.

But the sight of what he knows is uncertainty -- uncertainty, and the slightest vulnerability of showing it, from a manifestation of the all-seeing Eye of Providence -- nearly makes his heart ache, just a little. Dipper knows he's already gone.

He takes a deep breath.

"Alright." Dipper tries his best to sound serious, but he can tell he hasn't quite managed to keep the grin out of his voice. "If you wanna go that bad, I'll...go with you."

To a party he was already going to. Less than twelve hours away. Where he's now, apparently, gonna show up in front of half the town, most of his friends, and both his great-uncles. With his secret boyfriend, who is actually Bill Cipher.

This is gonna be terrible. This is gonna be _awesome_.

Bill pumps both fists into the air and lets out an actual, honest to God whoop. Everyone else in this Starbucks turns to stare, but Dipper can't bring himself to really mind. Instead, he just smiles, and tips his cup back, and tries not to make a stupid face when he gets all the remaining chocolate all at once, rich and heavy, a surfeit of sweet.

-—-

After that, the rest of the day passes relatively quickly. They spend the afternoon at the mall -- mostly so Bill can smoke Dipper at DDR, which, given his limited inventory of human muscle memory, remains incredibly unfair -- and then decide to go see that doofy Duck-Tective reboot, since movies are one thing Bill still doesn't really 'get.' Honestly, it's less of an excuse to introduce Bill to human cinema (and movie concessions) than it is for two hours of cuddling in the back row of the theater, and pretending not to laugh when Bill flicks popcorn with alarming, unseen accuracy at the back of Gideon's head.

They get milkshakes for dinner, after, just because they can. Because it's Dipper's birthday Bill even consents to hold hands, all through line and even once they sit down outside. Dipper tries not to get mushy about it, and mostly succeeds. He wonders, instead, if this is as big a deal to Bill as it is to him; if he's as nervous as Dipper is, if he's ever done this before, if his hands feel as warm in Bill's as Bill's do in his.

Well. 'Mostly' being the operative word, here.

(And anyway, the milkshake makes his hands cold.)

"Oh, that's easy," Dipper says. They've been trading off questions since they got out of the theater, and Dipper's starting to suspect Bill's just throwing him softballs, but hey. It's his birthday, he's on a date, he's not going to complain. "An ever-flowing cup of ginger ale. Always cold, never flat. Always just the right temperature."

"That's an awful lot of specifications. Even for a hypothetical." Bill's making a face, though Dipper thinks that might be partly because of the brain freeze. "Plus, ginger ale?"

"Uh, yeah. The most perfect beverage known to man." Dipper takes a drink of milkshake, then reconsiders. "Carbonated beverage, anyway. Anyway, your turn. How about...favorite piece of magic?"

"Oh no. That's literally impossible. Gimme some kind of parameters, here."

"Alright, fair enough." Dipper thinks for a moment. "How about...hm. Magic humans wouldn't notice as magic. Not right away, I mean."

"Oh, that's hard. Hm." Bill's actually gotten really into these questions and answers, so Dipper can tell this is gonna be a good one. "Wait. Like _me_ , or like _this_?"

"Eh." Dipper shrugs. "I figure regular-you has a harder time doing magic people wouldn't recognize."

"I am pretty distracting." Bill leans back into the chair, and considers. "I dunno. Not getting noticed rules out a lot of good magic. If I had to pick, probably something like...as much as I hate to say it, probably this. The ensemble."

He gestures vaguely at himself, and Dipper is confused.

"Uh, you hate being in that body, dude."

"Uh, _yeah_. I mean -- I dunno, the whole thing. The _experience_ , if you will." When Dipper just looks at him, Bill shoots him a sideways glance. "Haven't you ever noticed?"

"Noticed what?"

"That I'm always looking great? Even after all your ill-advised woodland adventures. That I've never got to do all that stuff you do, maintenance, styling, I mean -- the clothes, the hair?" Dipper must look more surprised than he meant to, because now Bill's doing that thing again, grinning with just his eye. "Apparently it's pretty good for not getting noticed as magic."

"Oh no." Once again, Dipper cannot fucking believe this. "The hell do you mean, you're _always clean_ \--"

"It's not always predictable!" Bill sounds defensive as he says it, though he looks entertained. "What it actually covers, I mean. It's tethered to the manifestation somehow, it certainly wasn't intentional. I've gotta have _some_ perks to this wimpy meatbag, come on."

"I fucking hate you, Bill."

"Oh, finally. Sixer'll be so pleased. I'll tell him tonight."

"Fuck you, man." Dipper's laughing as he says it. This is -- this is ridiculous. Bill is ridiculous. "I can't believe -- I've let you use my shower! I lent you clothes!"

"It's not like this isn't an actual body," Bill says, though now he's clearly trying not to laugh. "It needs -- hygiene. Or at least to do it with magic. Anyway, I've never seen the full sleeping experience from your side before. I didn't see you complaining at the time!"

Dipper gives up. He lays his head down against his arm and groans, while Bill just steals a drink of milkshake.

It's only a few seconds later his phone starts buzzing, and he sits back upright. Normally, Dipper wouldn't answer -- this is still, after all, a date, and he's gotten dementedly fond enough of Bill to actually want to pay attention most of the time -- but it's Mabel's ringtone. He gives Bill a pleading look.

Bill waves him off and takes another swig of (Dipper's) milkshake. Dipper just sighs, before looking back to his phone and swiping open his messages.
    
    
         > 7:08 pm
              hey bro bro
              it is me! ur favorite sister
              u got a second?
              :D :D :D

Dipper swallows. He's about 95% sure he knows where this is going, and it gives him a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
    
    
         > 7:08 pm
              yeah, what's up mabes?
    
    
    
    
         > 7:09 pm
              so
              don't laugh
    
    
         > 7:10 pm
              paz and i MAY have gotten a little
                   bit.......tipsy.

(This is punctuated by approximately _one billion_ birthday cake emojis.)
    
    
         > 7:11 pm
              oh god, here we go.
    
         > 7:11 pm
              it's not my fault!!! we went out to 
                   dinner, n she had that fancy
                   mead thingie with the peaches
                   and honey ;((
              though also: ;9
              ANYWAY. in the interests of responsbible
                   driving.
              *respo n s i n b le
              **u know what i mean.
         > 7:12 pm
              do u think u could.
              come pick us up. :)))
    
         > 7:12 pm
              um, i'm. kinda busy atm
              i'm on a date!! 
         > 7:15 pm
              i thought i told you a couple days ago?

Bill looks over to him from the corner of his eye. "She giving you trouble?"

"Do you even know who this is?"

"Uh, hello." He gives Dipper a knowing smirk. "Who else would you even have answered? The olds would have just called."

Dipper half-opens his mouth for some kind of smart response before he realizes Bill is a.) right and b.) too smug to argue with, basically ever.

"I don't think she knew we were gonna...be hanging out," he says, instead. "Today, I mean."

"Why not? Look, I'm not keeping you from her. Jeez, I'd never hear the end of it."

Dipper looks back at the screen for a second. Mabel's typing, but he's faster.
    
    
         > 7:17 pm
              i mean i'd still be happy to come get
                   you guys!!
              i just don't wanna. ditch him. seems like
                   kinda a dick move ykno . _ .

"She's with Pacifica," he explains, turning back to Bill. "She wants to know if I'll come pick them up."

"Oh." The sound hangs between them for a second, but after what seems like a very long second Bill just shrugs. Dipper can't tell if it's that easy from practice or if he's genuinely not bothered. "Easy. Go pick them up. I'm a big evil dream demon, I can make it to the party on my own."

"Uh, no." Dipper can feel his face starting to heat up, as it does whenever he starts feeling anything mushy, but he's not about to let that stop him now. "I -- look, you invited me, remember. Even if I'm the only one of us who can drive. We have an _arrangement_." His phone vibrates again. "Hold on--"
    
    
         > 7:19 pm
              uuuggghhhhhh ghghghjghh hgjghghgh gj

Bill is already leaning up to read over his shoulder. "Oh. Yikes."

"Get outta here, nosy jackass--"
    
    
         > 7:20 pm
              look dude i'm really sorry!!
              i just thought. it'd be nice. to have a
                   birthday date, for once in my life
              OTL OTL OTL
    
         > 7:23 pm
              uuuuggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
              ur srsly pulling that card on me >:|||
         > 7:25 pm
              look, ok
              u can
              (UGH)
              u can bring pointyfucker mcbastard, if u
                   rly want.
    
         > 7:25 pm
              :o!
    
         > 7:26 pm
              yeah yeah happy birth my small and tiny 
                   younger brother ;P
              just make sure he will behave!!
              idk if paz is gonna remember/recogizne
                   him, we're not THAT drunk
    
         > 7:26 pm
              !!!
              ok h/o lemme talk to him. one sec.

With a commendably straight face, Dipper turns to Bill -- who is still leaning on top of his shoulder, blatantly skimming through their conversation -- and says, "She asks if you think you can behave."

"Um, hello."

" _I'm_ asking if you think you can behave." Dipper squeezes Bill's hand, something he knows is an impossibly soft and human gesture for him to process. It's playing dirty, a little, but. Well. He did learn from the best. "I mean, in all fairness, Paz probably has the right to still be a _little_ offended."

Bill just looks at him for a second, before the realization hits and he flips his braid back over his shoulder like some kind of honest-to-God high school movie.

"He got put back together right in the end," he says, looking determinedly anywhere but at Dipper. "It's not like -- I mean, who _doesn't_ love a little arbitrarily-dispensed ironic justice body horror? He didn't even die, not even a little."

"I'm not saying I don't think he kinda deserved it. But he wasn't my dad." Dipper turns towards him, and bumps his shoulder against Bill's. "You really aren't as rough to be around as you used to be, y'know. It'd be nice if you could be around other people I like hanging out with."

Bill rolls his eye, though there's no real fire in the gesture. "You wouldn't want to hang out with the crowd I used to run with," he says. "As much as said so yourself, earlier today."

"Um, mostly because I'm pretty sure they'd try to kill me. But, if you asked me now, I'd -- well. I'd go." Dipper gives Bill a meaningful look. "Because I _trust_ you."

Bill snorts. "Look, kid, we may have come a long way, but your cute human morality tricks still won't work on me--"

"That's what you keep saying." He tugs on Bill's hand. "Come with me anyway?"

"I dunno." Bill turns to look at him from the corner of his eye. "You gonna keep asking me to behave?"

This actually takes Dipper off-guard. "Oh. I mean." He runs a hand through his hair, and feels his face flush; he actually feels a little ashamed. "I guess -- well, look, you're an adult, right? Or whatever your equivalent of it is. I mean, I did just tell you I trust you--"

"You're really gonna keep hammering on that one, aren't you."

Dipper laughs, not entirely self-consciously. "Come on," he says. "Please? She's waiting for an answer."

Bill groans. Obnoxiously.

"Y'know." Dipper gives him his most winsome grin. "If you come now. You won't have to fight anyone to ride shotgun."

Bill groans again. But he's already grinning back -- and when Dipper tugs at his arm, he doesn't resist.


End file.
